


Summer Dreams

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-09-30
Updated: 2002-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 10:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Alex muses on the joys of lazy summer days.





	Summer Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Summer Dreams

### Summer Dreams

#### by Laurel

Notes: A little snippet from Alex's POV. When summer's here, we all dread the heat and bemoan the humidity, but when the temperature drops, and the cool crisp air of autumn blows our way, we mourn the end of the season and I find myself sitting outside trying to capture that last bit of warmth, watch the birds and butterflies dance in the air and memorize the colors of the flowers before they're all gone. 

Spoilers: None. 

Disclaimers: The boys don't belong to me, unfortunately, except for the hummingbird. He's still out there and it's nearly October. 

My new life has given me the opportunity to lie in the grass like a young boy, feeling the prickly grass stab at my skin, the cushion of greenery sinking beneath my weight, while I look up at the sky, making pictures from clouds that shift in the blue haze. 

A piece of dandelion fluff captures my attention. I make wishes on it, even though everything I want is at my fingertips. I let the seed float away on the whimsy of the breeze and watch it glide away with endless grace into the horizon. 

The buzz of bees cavorting in the garden, humming in a language that is ancient and unknowable, cradled within the cup-like flowers; the whispering hum of a hummingbird, hovering, zooming back and forth, like a helicopter defying the laws of physics, captures my imagination and I watch them with wonder. The delicate flutter of wings, be it insect or bird is something I can study for hours. The outrageous color of a butterfly or the intricacies of the veins of a leaf mesmerize me. 

In the dead of summer, while the cicadas drone and the chirp of grasshoppers and the indignant squawk of a bird disturbed, all form a choir that would have driven me insane, we sit on the porch swing, rocking it back and forth until the squeaking chain joins the sounds of the wildlife. 

Their arms are around me, gripping glasses of fresh lemonade, the drops of condensation running over their fingers. The clouds shift in the sky, the sun momentarily disappears then shines again on the hoods of the cars on the steaming pavement. 

Their sweat stained bodies surround me, the scent of their skin and musk an aroma that arouses me. My lovers' mouths are stained red, a mischievous tongue curling around the corner of a mouth, stained too, from the fresh picked strawberries we'd gorged on in the afternoon. 

Laughing with merriment they take my hands and lead me to the garden, an oasis in the heat. The summer hums with lazy energy, of teasing wind, sunshine and the burst of flowers following the rays of the sun's light with their heads. We leap through the water sprinklers, momentarily cooled by the drops of water sliding off our limbs, dazzled by the rainbow as the sun beams through the fountain of water. 

We tumble into the grass, disturbing the bees rubbing on pollen. My world is filled with the intoxicating scent of flowers, the silken petals brushing my skin. Walter and Fox's skin hot and sticky as it strokes mine, glued together momentarily then reluctantly peels away. The grass is thick and alive under me and the sky is clear blue, free of even the lightest dusting of clouds now. 

They love me into exhaustion and afterwards, our breaths break the temporary stillness of the air until the cicadas take up their song again, bees settle on the roses, their fat bodies nestled in the velvety petals as they gather nectar and the wind picks up, blowing against the wings of a butterfly, chasing it into a pine tree. 

Our skin is dried by the sun and we tangle together on the grass, half asleep, sated and drowsy as summer lulls us into slumber. In that moment before we sleep, I can see the white daisies bobbing above our heads, the orange orb of the sun, feel the tickle of ants crawling on my ankle shaken off lazily, smell the heavy scent of lilacs hanging like lavender jewels, the intoxicating scent of honeysuckle, feel the tendrils of vines reaching out to encircle us before the embrace of Walter and Fox take me with them to a cat nap. 

The taste of kisses stained with crushed berries reminds me of endless summer and even in the dead of a bleak, snowy winter, as long as I'm in the arms of the men I love it will feel like summer forever. 

* * *

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Laurel


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